


Avatar Katara

by Polywantsanother



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Major Character Death in prologue, backgrounds are changed, no one is the same
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-06 00:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15182936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polywantsanother/pseuds/Polywantsanother
Summary: After losing her parents and her home, Katara has devoted six years of her young life to becoming the first Warlord of the South Pole. She makes it to the North Pole, right on the edge of the Fire Nation invasion. She has to protect the North, repel the Fire Nation, and find the Avatar. Right at the peak of the Lunar Eclipse, a masked man breaks through the line; the Traitorous Exiled Prince Zuko is also searching for the Avatar to stop his father.ON HIATUS





	1. Year 85

Summer patrolling near the poles were the worst positions in the navy. The sea fog blinded the ship and the sustained warmth broke off large icebergs that “migrated.” In order to make any sort of progress, scouting vessels were sent out to feel around the ocean, spotting potential hazards. The risk was much lower but it was boring, as the vessels were manned only by two soldiers and the fog made it feel like they were cut off from the rest of the world.

Zomomi and Yuuta had just finished their shift when they were rowing back to the warship. The fog cleared rapidly and Yuuta pulled up to the ship as Zomomi fumbled for his whistle. A piercing screech rang out and Yuuta exclaimed as he covered his ears.

Just as he looked up to scold Zomomi, he saw that his partner was staring behind him, his mouth agape, the whistle dangling silently on his bottom lip. Yuuta stood and turned to watch as the ship slid into a dense pocket of fog. The horrible screeching came from the thick white patch and Yuuta’s stomach sank.

The violent rubbing caused more of the fog to clear and the large iceberg was suddenly visible.

There was yelling now, as soldiers on the battleship scrambled into activity. A klaxon was added to the din and it seemed to reach a critical volume, making Yuuta deaf. All he could see was the gash as the ship finally pulled away from the iceberg. As a sort of sweet twist of revenge, the iceberg started to crack.

But then the battleship started to sink. In their panic, some soldiers jumped ship and landed in the arctic ocean waters. They were yelling, or at least Yuuta could see the open faces of the unmasked soldiers. Zomomi was also yelling, kicking at hands suddenly appearing at the edge of their small craft. Yuuta looked up and saw the massive crack snap across the iceberg causing the top started to slide into the ocean.

With the iceberg, the grasping hands of drowning men, and the quickly sinking ship, the wave that was created overturned their small boat. Yuuta started swimming, grabbed a body, and dragged it up onto the floating ice isle. He knew they would die anyway, wet and stuck on the ice. Deep down within himself, he fully believed it was better than drowning.

As Zomomi vomited salt water next to him, Yuuta watched as the force of the sinking battleship pushed away their cracked iceberg and sucked under all of the men who had abandoned her.

In a matter of minutes, it was over. The ship and her crew were gone. And the sea fog had rolled over it all.

“Zomomi, I see now why the iceberg cracked. Look, it was hollow.” Yuuta said as he rose to his feet again. Zomomi made gasping sounds from where he had curled up.

“Zomomi, there is a boy here. And his beast. He is tattooed.” Yuuta crouched down next to the slumped form of a young boy. He was still half embedded in ice, and even with his thin clothes, he seemed to be alive.

“He’s an Airbender Zomomi.” Yuuta stated. He stood up again and unsheathed his knife. It was serrated, used mainly for cutting ropes in case his scouting boat got tangled in the fishing nets of the savage Waterbenders.

He knew what to do with Airbenders, though it had been a almost a hundred years since one had been seen.

“Zomomi, there is a beast here. We will have meat and we have our fire. Perhaps if we wait, we will be rescued.” Yuuta said, after he finished. He did not think.

He did not think and he was far from a fishing village.


	2. Year 93- Katara

Haida, as a village, was always small. For forty-five years, the Fire Nation had been making systematic sweeps of the coastline. Each year their expeditions drove further into the interior, and so the soldiers hit the coastal villages on the way out for good measure. Thus Haida got smaller. **  
**

As fewer and fewer Waterbenders were found, the raids occurred more and more infrequently. Still, there was very little rebuilding. Waterbenders were necessary for shaping roads and buildings. There were fewer men in the village to hunt or fish. Haida withered and her villagers became dried husks in the ice and snow.

When Katara showed her abilities as a Bender, the people of Haida spent three days in silence. The Elders met with Hakoda and Kya, to try and figure out what to do.

Waterbenders were vital, and so they swore to protect her. But they knew word would spread. They knew it was only a matter of time before someone said something to the wrong person.

So a roughshod sort of training was enacted. Anybody related to a Waterbender was called in to assist to cobble together some sort of rudimentary learning. An aged mother recalled a long dead cousin who had practiced every day. A brother could recreate the motions he had mimicked of his older sister, but only if his eyes were closed. A man with sad eyes corrected Katara’s small hands as he remembered his wife.

As with their stories, Katara learned her bending from the passed down wisdom of her tribe. Her hands moved through memories, and they were not perfect. But within a year, Katara could call the water and move it as she wanted.

On the day of the black snow, Katara had been out practicing. Standing in a circle she had marked out, she turned snow to ice, to water, to steam, and back to snow, breathing in a rhythm specific to each form. When her ring of water was streaked with black, Katara looked up. At first, she did not understand. Children younger than her knew snow was white, or red after a hunt, or yellow in the animal pens. Snow was never black.

“Katara!” Her brother’s voice, already high in youth, was shrill as he screamed. She knew, at that moment, what was happening.

The secret had finally been revealed.

Katara ran, her mittens attached to her sleeves flapped like penguin flippers. She had to get to the tent. She had to find her parents.

The village was small, the outskirts were just as restricted. Katara clambered over a low wall and went half tripping toward the tents. Pausing at one, Katara tried to catch her breath, but she could see bursts of fire erupting from near the coastline. Gulping in air, Katara continued to run.

When she reached the tent, she ripped back the flap and tumbled inside. Kya caught her, bringing her in toward her chest. After kissing her hair quickly, Kya pulled Katara back, cupping her face.

“Grab your bag.” Her mother said and Katara nodded before breaking away. There had been a plan. A sled was kept behind the village, half a day’s walk from the wall. If her father and brother survived this raid, they would all meet at the sled. If a day passed and they didn’t show up, Kya would lead the sled down a carefully marked path to another village.

They moved around the tent in frightened silence. So when the flap was torn away, both Kya and Katara screamed.

Even before she could hope the large figure was her father, Katara saw the sharply curved shoulders of the Fire Nation uniform.

“A woman of Hakoda’s tent. Now, which of you is her?” The man asked, sounding hateful and condescending.

“I don’t know what you mean sir.” Kya said, keeping her eyes downcast even as Katara rushed to her.

“Which one of you worms is the Waterbender?” The man demanded and Kya flinched.

“Please sir, where is my husband?” Kya asked. The man didn’t respond but kicked snow at the pair. Kya squeezed Katara’s arms, keeping them pinned at her side. It was one of the easiest tricks to expose a Waterbender. As the icy slush hit Katara’s face, she felt her skin burn.

“Which of you,” The man hissed. “Is the Waterbender?”

“Sir, there has not been a Waterbender in Haida for twenty years.” Kya said and the man now laughed. His laughter was acidic and burned through Katara’s head. Two more soldiers, masks gleaming, walked into the tent. The man raised a hand.

“Grab the girl.” He said and the soldiers moved forward.

“KATARA!” Kya screamed just as one soldier wrenched Katara away with a fistful of her jacket.

“MAMA!” Katara screamed in return as her arms flailed to reach her mother, who was restrained by the other soldier.

It was in this flailing of limbs, both Kya reaching and Katara fighting, when a spear of ice was jammed through the leg of the soldier holding Katara. As he screamed, he let Katara go, but before she could run back to her mother, the man grabbed her.

“The mother then.” He said, his voice low and almost gentle.

“Please sir, let my daughter go.” Kya said through her sobs. Holding her up by her arm, her toes barely touching the ground, the man examined Katara.

“I suppose she doesn’t need to see this.” He said and then tossed Katara bodily out of the tent. “Go get your father child.”

Katara scrambled backward and she saw Kya’s face, serene and tear streaked. Gulping in the frozen air, Katara turned and pushed herself up. She ran to the coast, yelling for her father.

A good distance away from the shore, a large metal boat had sheared through the snow and grounded itself. Four soldiers were working on melting the ice around the bow while a group of villagers stood in a huddle. Three soldiers stood guard a few feet away and they held up their hands as Katara came running into view. **  
**

“She’s my daughter!” Hakoda yelled as one soldier advanced. Katara, crying, only saw the large blur of her father and nothing else. Hakoda grabbed her, picking her up and crushing her in his arms.

“They have mom.” Katara said through sobs and hiccups. Hakoda’s squeezed tightened till Katara yelped and then he released her. Sokka came to her then, wrapping his arms gently around her shoulders.

“Then you’re safe.” Hakoda stated, his tone strained.

“But-” Sokka started but Hakoda cut him off with a look.

“She’s gone Sokka.” He said severely and both children started to cry. Minutes after Katara had made it to the group, the unmasked man came walking up. One of the soldiers held up the wounded one and the pair hobbled quickly after him.

“The fugitive Waterbender has been executed.” The man said to no one in particular. He looked directly at Hakoda for a moment, as if challenging him. Instead, Hakoda only pulled Katara and Sokka to his legs. With a smirk, the man turned to the soldiers.

“Let’s go.” He said and they all moved to ramp that had been disgorged from the bow. Katara and Sokka howled as the ramp was pulled in and the villagers began to stand closer together.

“I will grab the bags.” Someone said.

“Someone find Kanna.” Someone else added.

“The sheets are in the trunk. Get them. Now!” A third said sharply.

“We’ll see to her burial Hakoda. But as soon as the ship leaves the ice, run.” A fourth voice whispered and Hakoda scooped Katara back up.

“Why do we have to leave?” Sokka asked as they moved to the fishing boats. They had stores of dried food for their journey already packed away, but fresh fish would help in the beginning.

“If someone told them the Waterbender was of my family, someone will tell them it was a child and not a woman.” Hakoda said and jostled Katara up so she wrapped her arms around his neck. Hakoda’s jaw clenched before he continued. “They’ll be back.”

They moved quickly, grabbing the stores they had dispersed among various families. When they found Kanna, she was holding Kya’s necklace in a tight fist. Sokka and Katara both had ceased crying, but Katara could feel something break inside of her.


	3. Year 94- Zuko

The palace, for all its many rooms and long halls, was small. Fear and isolation made it smaller. When Zuko was born, he was fourth in line for the throne. His uncle was forty-nine, already a widower, and with a grown son of his own. Azulon, the reigning Fire Lord, was eighty-three and had no intention of abdicating. Ozai was a second son, born to a second wife, and kept inside of the palace as the obvious spare. Born just in case the worst happened to his older brother, the great Dragon of the West. 

Even as a small child, Zuko had felt the tension that lingered over dinner. Ozai obviously wanted more, but was consistently denied military appointments or even a governorship in the ever expanding colonies. The only thing he had succeeded in was his marriage to Ursa. Their child was supposed to fulfill a prophecy; the blood of the infamous Sozin and the Avatar Roku in one superior Firebender child. **  
**

When Zuko proved to be a less than satisfactory Firebender, his father was immediately disgusted. A prodigal Bender was known with an early onset of ability and be able to innately protect themselves when faced with their element. Zuko’s hands were burned when he was four, after Ozai tried to force his bending. It wasn’t until his sixth birthday, an average age, when Zuko was able to summon fire.

Azula, on the other hand, called her first flame at three. And Ozai began to wonder about the succession of the second born.

Still, nothing really changed at the palace. Iroh was often away on a campaign or a dragon hunt, and once Lu Ten had begun his officer’s training was also gone for long stretches of time. Ozai, in an attempting to make Zuko good at something, hired the Piandao to teach him swordsmanship. It was a backhanded offer, since Piandao was not only a legendary swordsman, but also an infamous deserter. He had defeated a hundred men sent to arrest him, but came when the Fire Lord summoned him. In exchange for his freedom, Piandao was tasked with training the small prince. An insult to both of them.

Piandao, however, proved to be a compassionate teacher and Zuko was a loyal student. The former soldier taught him a different philosophy than what had been expounded by firebending teachers. Zuko learned to move, to hold himself, and to strike with more grace. His firebending improved as much as his swordsmanship did.

Ozai seemed content that his son was no longer an abject failure, though a disappointment nonetheless. He saw Ursa’s attention as coddling and often contrived ways to bring down both of his children. Azula, as a toddler, began to act out around Ursa, going so far as to strike at her. But at night, when the nightmares came, Azula clung to her and howled. Once she started attending the Girls’ School, she became distant from all of them, drawn more to her friends Mai and Ty Lee. When the three of them were in the palace, they swarmed on Zuko more, but at least Azula’s pranks were more frustrating than cruel.

The routine continued. Tension would slowly build and Zuko would avoid his father, Azula would antagonize him, there would be a fight, Ozai would have them both beaten, and then things would settle back into the usual state of affairs.

In between episodes there were family visits to Ember Island where it almost seemed like they loved each other. Zuko had clear memories of Ozai bending over Ursa to kiss her gently. He remembered playing with Azula on the beach, or having Lu Ten teach him how to swim in the gentle ocean. Iroh would go for a walk and return with fruits he would steam and they would watch the sunset, rinsing off in the surf before they rode back to their estate.

Zuko knew they were all so desperate for happiness that they each played their part in the farce. Yet still there were nights, when Zuko’s backside was raw and his body pulsed with pain, when he would think of those days. He would silently plead for them to always feel like that.

Everything changed the day Lu Ten died.

The Fire Lord kept the most rooms in the palace. Then the crown prince had his apartments, which had been empty for almost two years. Finally, there was Ozai’s suite. Their rooms were clustered together and shared one large garden. When he was anxious, Zuko often sneaked out to the garden when he couldn’t sleep. After a family dinner where Ozai not only didn’t show up, but called Ursa away, Zuko was extremely anxious.

Just as he tossed off his blankets, he heard the shaking rattle of a door being slid open. He paused, one leg halfway off the bed, listening. After a moment, the door closed and Zuko heard a pair of voices in the garden.

Although they were muffled, he could pick out his mother and father. Gliding carefully out of bed, Zuko lightly stepped onto the floor and padded over to his interior door that opened to the garden. Sliding it open by painful inches, he held his breath till he had a gap wide enough to peer through. Laying on the floor, Zuko spied out into the moonlight garden. Ursa wore her summer jinbai with an open kimono draped over her shoulders. Ozai was still dressed in his kimono but his hair was down and wet.

“Lots of sons die in wars.” Ozai said dismissively and Ursa raised her shoulders, turning her back to Zuko’s door.

“His only son.” Ursa stated and Ozai raised a hand.

“More importantly,” He said and pointed at her. “His heir.”

“That’s disgusting.” Ursa said darkly and Ozai smirked.

“My father had me when he was fifty-three. Iroh is what, sixty-one? He could have another son.” He retorted. Zuko felt the shock of dread. Lu Ten was, dead? Clenching his fists, Zuko dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands.

“I can only wish that my brother finds happiness again.” Ursa demurred and Ozai let out a bark of laughter.

“He’s a coward. One unhappy marriage and he swears off women for the rest of his life. His son dies and he immediately calls a retreat from the single most impressive siege of history.” He said.

“An unhappy marriage can be very damaging.” Ursa said sharply and Ozai turned to her, his eyes narrowed and his mouth pulled into a thin line. Then, with a slow smile, he advanced on her. Grabbing her chin roughly, Ozai pulled her face toward him. He examined her and then reached back to unpin her hair. Taking the long pin in his fingers, he ran the tip along her jaw and down her throat. Zuko couldn’t see what happened, but Ursa gasped lightly.

“You have done what you needed to do, and you have done it so well.” Ozai said. Ursa flicked up her arm and knocked the pin out of his hand. Laughing lightly, Ozai took his free hand and wrapped it around Ursa’s middle while the other went to the back of her head. He grabbed a fistful of her hair as he pulled her to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to see your husband on the throne?” He asked.

“Whatever makes you happy Ozai.” Ursa replied. Ozai’s face softened as he looked down at his wife.

“Do you really mean that Ursa?” He asked, not seeking an answer. When Ursa stayed silent, he dipped down and kissed her. When he released her, she swayed slightly.

“I had thought, in my vanity, that I deserved a beautiful bride. Now I can see how beauty is a trap.” Ozai muttered and turned away from her. They stood, silent, and Zuko could feel his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

“I am going to petition Azulon to disinherit Iroh.” Ozai continued abruptly. Ursa straightened and her arms fell rigid by her side.

“You’re already your brother’s heir.” She said.

“At this point, Iroh may pass over me completely and name that insignificant brat you coddle as his heir.” Ozai took a few steps away from her and held his hands behind his back. “No, I’ll not wait for both my father and my brother to die before I take the throne.”

“This is immoral Ozai.” Ursa countered.

“This war has been raging for ninety-four years Ursa. Three generations of children have been born into a world of constant war. I will end it. Sozin’s Comet returns in six years and I will end everything.” Ozai said and turned his face toward the sky. “The century of generals will end, and I will rule.”

“This is treason and madness.” Ursa said. Ozai turned his head to glance at her over his shoulder. Zuko flinched and receded a from the gap.

“And what will you do my little wife? What is your duty here?” He questioned. Zuko held his breath again as he watched his mother’s back. It took only a few seconds, but the hesitation was noticeable. Then, she fell gracefully to her knees and bowed her head.

“My duty is to you, husband.” She answered softly. Ozai turned fully and walked to her, putting a hand on her head.

“Come to bed wife.” He said and walked back to the door for their room. Ursa rose in a fluid motion and walked after him. Zuko curled around to watch them. Ozai held Ursa’s hand as she stepped up onto the low porch and kissed her hand as she slid off her sandals. Zuko watched until they both went in and the door slid shut with a firm clack. Counting the minutes, Zuko waited and strained to hear any sign that his parents were still up. With only the sound of the night breeze and a faint hooting from a roosting owl, Zuko edged the door open more till he could slide out. He kept his eyes on his parents’ door as he darted out into the garden, barefoot, and went to where his father had dropped the hairpin.

Finding it, Zuko was suddenly rooted to the spot. He held the long pin in both hands, watching it glint in the moonlight. Like many of Ursa’s hairpins, it was weighty and had a sharp tip. Zuko remembered a lesson with Piandao. How, when wielded with enough force, almost anything could be used as a weapon.

Even something with such a basic use and seen as nothing more than decoration.


	4. Year 94- Katara

They had run for a year. During the spring and summer months, they moved frequently from village to village. It seemed like any time they stopped for more than a few days, there came a notice that the Fire Nation was raiding close by. While they were probably not looking for Katara, at least not each time, it was still enough to push them onward. Their plan had been to get as far into the interior as possible. Anytime they tried to head toward the pole, however, something stopped them. A pathway had melted more than expected in the summer, or the only available team of dogs were too ill to pull their sled, and more than once they had been stymied by moving Fire Nation raiders.

When the sun started its descent toward winter, the family found themselves back on the coastline, but more north than they had ever been. The village even had a small farm scratched out and other woolly mammals that chewed the rough grass that grew on the tundra.

As with all of the other villages, this one accepted them readily. They were all one tribe after all, no matter how far away they each had lived. They shared a hut with a widower and his son, two hard eyed men with fingers leathered and split by the tanning they did. As was their custom, everyone was hospitable and they each had their own skin and shared a lice free mattress between the four of them. Katara had found comfort curled against her father’s back as Hakoda took in deep swirling breaths in his sleep.

They had only been there for three nights before the chief pulled them into his hut.

“I think you should go.” Cheif Malitut said as his wife set out the plates for dinner. Katara felt that sour knot begin to form in her stomach, as it always did when they spoke of leaving a village.

“Is that best? With the dark months coming, the ice shelf will grow larger and the Fire Nation raids will lessen.” Hakoda said in reply.

“But they will still come and if they arrive in the middle of the dark season, you will have nowhere to run.” Malitut said.

“We have nowhere to go now.” Hakoda stated and Katara pushed at the meat on her plate.

“Brother, I do not intend to send you to the wilds. You are going on a boat.” Malitut said and Katara glanced over at her brother. Sokka stared back at her with wide eyes.

“A boat to where?” Hakoda asked.

“Not far. The ruins of the Southern Air Temple are nearby. We send our livestock there to graze during the dark season. We intend to send you to graze in greener pastures as well.” Malitut answered.

“Is it safe?” Kanna spoke up now and Malitut regarded her seriously.

“We’ve been fishing in the waters between the two places since before the Airbenders were wiped out. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if a Waterbender had been born there before the war.” Malitut chuckled and scratched the side of his nose. He cleared his throat and sat straighter before he continued. “Ever since the raids started, we made a point to occupy those waters. During the summer, we still fish there. In the days before the dark season, we send out our youngest and oldest to attend to our livestock where it is warmer. They know we send people and animals, and they’ve gotten mostly lazy.”

“Mostly?” Hakoda asked, suspicious. Malitut’s wife sat down next to him and put a hand on her husband’s shoulder.

“They will not allow men of a fighting age to cross. They don’t want us to start an army.” Malitut said. The sour knot finally tightened in Katara’s gut and she winced in pain. Sokka reached over under the table and took her hand, squeezing it gently.

“So I will not be able to join my children?”  Hakoda questioned, his voice thick and heavy.

“Your mother will be with them.” Malitut countered. “And if you don’t want to do this, I will not force you. You will always be welcome in my hut and we will defend your daughter till the last man.”

Katara saw the pain in her father’s eyes. He knew Malitut was being honest. In the perpetual ice and forever darkness of the winter months, all of the people in the south pole had learned that the only way to survive is to have the support of the tribe. Without it, they would all die. Whomever had exposed her in the beginning had paid a great price at the hands of the Fire Nation, there was no mistake about that.

And now, Katara saw plainly what that cost could entail. This entire village, even the hard eyed widow and his son, would fight a fully armed raiding party to let her escape. They would die before letting any child, let alone the last Waterbender, come to harm.

“I will not put your village in danger.” Hakoda said softly, shaking his head.

“Brother, danger is the polar bear dog’s teeth, the lying ice on the edge of the shelf, and bad fish not properly salted. There is danger everywhere in our lives, and we will face it together.” Malitut said and Katara felt tears come to her eyes.

“It is best, though, for the children if we go.” Kanna stated and Hakoda looked at his mother. As always, her face was stern and her jaw was set.

“You still want to take her north.” Hakoda said quickly and then flinched. It was something he had not meant to say and Katara seized it immediately.

“North? Where?” She questioned and Hakoda sighed, but did not answer.

“I am from the North Pole. We have kin there, and most likely a proper Waterbending master.” Kanna answered instead and Malitut made a thoughtful hum.

“I don’t think you can make it to the north in one go.” He said. “But the Southern Air Temple is a good start.”

They ate dinner together and then after, Chief Malitut took them to the shore where many of the villagers were loading up the rafts. The vessels were wide and flat, with an army of paddling oars to send them slowly over the choppy sea. Bales of dried grass had already been heaped on and the smaller animals - the woolly ovines and the woolly porcines - had already been herded onto many of the rafts. The woolly bovines didn’t like to be penned in for too long, so they would be pushed on in the morning before they set sail.

It was decided that Sokka would travel on one of the larger rafts with a group of older shepherds. Boys at his age did not often go with their families and it would look less suspicious. Katara and Kanna were assigned to a smaller one with a group of elderly women who were hand-knitting and watching one very pregnant sow.

That night, as they readied for bed, Hakoda took Katara back outside of the hut. They both looked up at the night sky, watching high up clouds drift over the stars, causing them to blink in and out of view.

“We will cross many miles before we see each other again my snowflake.” Hakoda said and Katara immediately clung to her father, weeping. Hakoda laid a heavy hand on her back, neither soothing her nor bidding her to stop.

“Papa, I don’t want to go!” Katara wailed. She pressed her hot face into Hakoda’s coat till her nose began to hurt.  “Please don’t make me!”

“Katara.” Hakoda said sternly, but lovingly. Katara sniffled but looked up at him. Hakoda crouched down and put a hand on either of her shoulders.

“Your name comes from ‘atka,’ the spirits. They are the ones who came before us, and the last Katara from our village was once a great angakok. She could put on a whale seal skin and become one, swimming in deep waters to feed the village during a famine. You are the last hope for our people.” Hakoda stopped abruptly, as if he had more to say but could not gather the words. Katara whimpered and Hakoda brought her to his chest, hugging her.

“You are my daughter Katara, and I will love you forever.” He said and kissed her hair.

Katara thought she would never be able to fall asleep, but ultimately, between her father’s swirling breaths and Sokka’s even ones, Katara felt tears dry on her cheeks as she drifted.

The next morning, there were more tears. Sokka now, even at ten, still had to have his hands pried away from Hakoda’s coat. The other boys took him gently and tried to cheer him up, mostly by poking the tied up woolly ovines with long pieces of hay. Hakoda also stayed busy by helping the other adults push the woolly bovines up onto the rafts and lashing them down. The animals were massive and the rafts dipped dangerously low in the water. Katara felt the ramping anxiety watching it all, and Kanna had to gently lead her away.

When they were settled and the animals had all been tied down, the rafts began to push away. Some distance don the row, Katara could hear the sudden howling of her brother. She too began to cry and Kanna gathered her into her lap, swaying slowly from side to side.

Just as they pushed off, someone called out.

“Wait!” Hakoda yelled and Katara looked up. Her father came up huffing, and his eyes were red and tight. He held out something in his hands and Katara scrambled over to get it.

“Your parents will never leave you.” Hakoda said. The raft pulled away from the shore and Katara grasped the thing her father had offered. She sank back once the raft fully hit the water looked down at her hands.

It was her mother’s necklace.


	5. Zuko- Year 95

It took a year.

Iroh returned for the funeral and stayed only a month, and his absence ignited the whispers. The great general had abandoned his post, he had retreated when victory seemed imminent. Most of the city was still sympathetic. Losing a son, and the heir no less, was bound to be devastating. But there were just enough men, men who sought to better their station, who wondered why the crown prince had forsaken his country. Ozai stayed away from the whispers, but made sure they were heard.

Azulon became deaf to it all.

Zuko heard them, and he watched with frightened clarity as Ozai moved through the palace. There were many meetings between his father and the Fire Lord, meetings that caused Ozai to freeze the family rooms. 

Something was building, something terrible, and Zuko trembled in his ignorance. Azula even stilled with her mouth closed and her eyes wide, trying to find what they were missing.

Instead of an answer, Zuko was shaken awake in the middle of the night.

“We have to go.” The figure whispered sharply in the darkness. Zuko shot awake but was still disoriented.

“What’s happened?” He asked, his heart pounding in his throat. Hands grabbed his arms roughly and Zuko winced in pain.

“Your grandfather is dead. You’re next. We have to go.” The voice was masculine but so low and subdued it was difficult to make out.

“Okay.” Zuko said, swallowing his heart and bile.

The figure pulled him out of bed and shoved a cloak around him. Zuko stayed silent as the man grasped his hand and yanked him along. Once in the hall, another man holding a torch met them.

“Master, the guards are coming.” The man murmured and Zuko began to shake. The torch was steady but shadows still jumped around the man’s face, making it unrecognizable. 

“We need-” The man holding Zuko was cut off as another door slammed back on it’s groove. Zuko jumped and curled around the man’s body, but was relieved to see his mother holding Azula’s hand.

“Let’s go.” Ursa ordered and the group moved quickly down the hall. They were making their way opposite from the main hall, and Zuko knew they would reach a dead end. Before they reached that, the man with the torch slid open a door to their dining room. Through there, he pushed back on a piece of the wall and Zuko gasped as it opened.

“Your majesty.” The man holding Zuko said and Ursa stepped into the dark hole, pulling Azula in after her. It was in that moment, crossing the threshold, that Azula let out a cry. Immediately, Ursa slapped her hand over Azula’s mouth and Azula began to thrash.

“We have to go princess. You’re father has gone mad.” The man with the torch said. Zuko looked up as the hand holding his tightened.

The light shifted just enough in the correct way.

It was Piandao. 

“Master…” Zuko said in a hushed gasp. Piandao looked down at him with a frown and Zuko closed his mouth with an audible click. Fat had pushed Azula and Ursa through the passage, so Piandao and Zuko followed quickly after them. Piandao hesitated to slide the wall back in place and they all stepped carefully through the secret hallway, following the light of Fat’s torch. 

After one sharp turn, Fat moved to the front of the group and groped for a moment along a wall. Something in the darkness clicked and Zuko felt the rush of fresh air before he saw the moonlight expanse of burnt soil. The grounds of the palace, between the building and the palace walls at least, were razed. Fat extinguished his torch but Zuko could still smell ash and fire from the ground. As they walked quickly away from the palace, he could feel ash start to coat his face. The hem of his cloak began to feel heavy and his bare feet sank slightly in the crumbling dirt. 

Nothing felt real.

Once at the palace wall, Zuko felt a new terror shoot down his spine. There was no going over the high wall, even if they had brought a ladder or rope.

Azula was back to crying and Ursa knelt next to her, trying to soothe her.

“I want father!” Azula shrieked as Ursa tried to hug her to her chest. 

“Your father will kill you.” Ursa said, her voice tight with desperation.

“No! He’ll only kill Zuko!” Azula retorted and Zuko’s spine turned to ash itself. He almost crumpled, but Piandao braced him. Ursa looked shocked and grabbed onto Azula’s arms as if she was drowning.

“What did you say?” Ursa asked.

“Majesty, we don’t have time.” Piandao said, but Ursa only started to shake Azula.

“What did you say?” Ursa demanded again and Azula beat at her with small fists. She broke away and stared at Ursa with red, puffy eyes.

“Father said since you poisoned Zuko as much as you poisoned grandfather, that he would just kill him too.” Azula said.

“Azula.” Ursa breathed the name and reached out, but Azula stepped back.

“Father loves me. He’s going to make me Fire Lord.” Azula said and turned to run. Zuko moved instinctively and grabbed her arm.

“Azula no!” Zuko said as Azula yelled for him to let her go. “He never loved us!” 

“He never loved YOU!” She screamed back and then there was the bright flash of blue fire. Zuko heard more screaming, a loud noise, and then everything went black.

When he woke again, he couldn’t see anything. He could still feel the jostling of a cart and knew he was lying down, so he figured he was still alive. There was a searing pain in his face, but it was also behind a sort of barrier. Everything in his body told him it was the worst hurt he had ever experienced, but he couldn’t feel it. 

“He’s awake.” Piandao said. 

“My son.” Ursa still sounded desperate and frightened, but her tone had taken a more liquid sound.

“Mmmm….” Zuko flailed, in both speech and body as he weakly tried to reach through the darkness toward his mother.

“Shhh, my son, be still. You have been badly burned.” Ursa said and grabbed one of his hands. “When will we meet my brother?” She spoke now to Piandao and Zuko could feel his consciousness begin to slide backward, further into the darkness.

“Three days your majesty. But we won’t be able to get a Waterbender to the camp to heal the prince.” Piandao answered. Ursa began to sob and while Zuko tried to stay awake, he ended up slipping into the darkness to the sound of her crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot about Friday the 13th and then Saturday got away from me, sorry!


	6. Katara- Year 94

It would take two days to cross the strait and get onto the rocky shore of the old Air Nomad land. The first day passed quietly. Katara felt the taut string that connected her to Sokka over the distance of water between their rafts. Sensing that anxiety, one of the more spry grandmothers slowly shifted the rudders to move the raft closer. The shepherds had done the same and the rafts were within seeing distance by evening.

And that was when they met the blockade.

A small fleet of ships patrolled the strait between the Water Tribe village and the old Air Nomad settlement. A lieutenant and a handful of sailors would examine the rafts, extract a toll, and they would be sent along. It was a boring post, but cushy for the officiers. The grandmothers on her raft talked about the fat Capitan Watanabe who had been posted here for twelve years. He had all of the Fire Nation arrogance, but relished that he hadn’t been sent to Ba Sing Se or some other Earth Kingdom holding.

“He likes our food.” One woman said and a few others tittered with their dry laughter.

The larger metal ships stopped the rafts and Katara watched as a few men were lowered in a dinghy. They made it straight to the lead craft and Katara listened as the women on the raft sighed.

Then two more dinghies were lowered. Katara immediately felt the prickle of anxiety and her head turned about in rapid arcs. More and more soldiers approach clusters of rafts. One stopped right next to the rafter holding most of the shepherds.

The raft holding the most supplies and the most older boys.

The raft Sokka was on.

Their string snapped even tighter and Katara was at the edge of the raft before she could even blink. Kanna was right behind her, trying to pull her back.

“Capitan, there are men here.” One soldier called out. Katara looked to the lead raft and saw a tall man standing like a pole. He was thin and lean, with a helmet that caught the moonlight in broken glints.

“I don’t know him.” A grandmother said and ice started to form in Katara’s chest.

“They are but boys, sir.” The grandfather in the first raft said. The helmet swiveled much like a catowl.

“I understand that my predecessor was lax in his duties, but I will not continue his indulgent practices.” The tall, lean man said and turned back to the other soldier. No other part of his body moved as he went on. “Men of sixteen are not to make the crossing.”

“I’m nine!” A boy squawked.

“You’re a bit big for nine.” The soldier said and grabbed the boy by the scruff of his shirt collar.

He was young. He was painfully young. And Sokka was older.

Katara saw the boy’s face pale and how the other shepherds shifted, both trying to fight back and at once holding each other back. They surged over each other like hungry waves crashing on a metal shore.

“This is ridiculous. He is obviously a child!” The grandfather yelled.

“You and your kind are animals. You breed young and age faster than the rest of the world. That boy might be nine but he’ll be a snarling, snapping cur tomorrow.” The man said. “However, I have learned that the animals here don’t tend to swim well until they’re adults.” The man made a motion with his hand and the soldier holding the boy suddenly launched the youth into the water.

It was a known fact that most Water Tribals couldn’t swim. The water was too cold and the shock of it would sink a man faster than any rough sea. Katara watched as the cold shock set in and the boy promptly sucked in water as he sank.

As the grandfather began to scream, the new captain was stepping onto his boat. Other soldiers took up bags and pouches before getting into their own boats.

Katara reached out and Kanna grabbed her wrist, squeezing it so tight that she felt a tingle of nerves in her fingers.

If she saved the boy, she would die.

A splash made Kanna let go and Katara started to scream as well.

Sokka popped up in the water and all of the others began to yell. Ignoring them, Sokka dove back under the water. He was ten, he was scrawny, water would weigh both of their small bodies down.

But Haida had been near a volcanic pool. They had swum in large red craters filled with green water that perpetually steamed and created snow.

Katara threaded her fingers together and started praying. She couldn’t tell if her heart had stopped beating or if the seconds had begun to lengthen into eternity. Katara was unable to count how quickly his air would run out, or how far down he was being dragged.

As she squeezed her hands together harder and harder, she held her breath for as long as he did. Her hands hurt and throbbed as her lungs did. She needed to breathe but she knew, if Sokka didn’t come back, she would never breathe again.

The Fire Nation dinghies went back to the boat and the water next to the shepherds’ raft broke.

Voices and hands pulled the pair of bodies just as ropes pulled the dinghies up. Katara jumped from her raft to the next, running to the other corner as Kanna called out for her. A few more jumps, and Katara got sloppy. As her foot hit the water, she turned it to ice and sprinted over to the shepherds’ raft.

Lucky. Even though ice didn’t break free as often in the dark season, the water was warmer here and the large Fire Nation ships often sheared off icy patches. In the darkness, her bending could have been just a very lucky coincidence.

Katara landed on the wooden raft and immediately went to Sokka. He was breathing so she turned to the other boy. Someone else was pounding on his chest and Katara used the confusion to pull the water out of his lungs through his mouth. They all kept their backs to the Fire Nation boat, but they were still stopped in the strait. It would be easy to see what she was doing as Katara made slow, repetitive movements.

When the boy began to cough, the blockade was slowly drifting away. Katara rolled the boy over and he coughed up lungfuls of water onto the wooden planks. The rafts began to move and Katara looked up as they passed a boat. Masked soldiers glinted like stars in the darkness. Torches snapping in the breeze painted patches of them as red, and Katara knew they were human. They could be killed.

“We need to get them warm.” A boy said.

“Wait until we pass.” Katara said and stared down at the half drowned boy. He had begun to shudder violently in the cold.

“We just need to wait.” She murmured and put her hand on the boy’s chest. His heartbeat jumped under her palm and Katara knew something, deep inside of her. In time, it would come out. She just had to wait.


	7. Zuko

When Zuko woke up, he couldn’t see and his entire face was numb. He panicked, but in his state, he only managed to roll over and begin moaning. Light broke and Zuko found that he was lying inside of a tent.

“Get the healer.” A familiar voice said and then the light disappeared. Footsteps moved closer to him and Zuko felt someone sit on the ground next to him.

“How are you nephew?” His uncle asked gently and Zuko reached out for him, still moaning.

“Is he awake?” Light again broke across his uneven vision and his mother swept in with a breeze. He felt a hand fall on his side and his moaning subsided.

“Do you see now why I must go to Hira’a?” Ursa’s whisper was sharp and Iroh’s sigh was pained.

“He will look there.” Iroh said.

“And he will not find me.” Ursa insisted.

“You will have to leave Zuko here.” Iroh said.

“Mmmmm….. Nnnnnnnnh-” Zuko groped wildly in the hazy dark and felt the familiar softness of his mother’s hands.

“You will stay with him?” She asked as she bent over. Zuko could feel her breath on his fingers.

“Of course.” Iroh answered just as Ursa kissed his hands.

“Mmmm! N,n-no!” Zuko managed. He struggled upward and his mother caught him, holding him close. Confused, and having a pain he could not properly feel, Zuko started to cry. Light burst in and a third person walked into the tent.

“Here, majesty.” A woman’s voice was worn but friendly. Zuko felt another pair of hands gently pull on his shoulders, dragging him back down. As his back hit the mat, someone braced his shoulders and Zuko felt something bump against his mouth. Liquid poured down his throat and Zuko coughed. Still, he was made to swallow a bitter liquid and his choking turned to gagging.

“Will he lose the eye?” Iroh asked once Zuko had calmed. He was laid back down and could already feel the edges of his mind continuing to fall into the ground.

“No, the burn was mostly superficial. But the heat was intense and he will most definitely have a lifelong scar. The bandage must be kept on for three months. Change it twice a day, more if there is any oozing or bleeding.” The woman said. She paused and Zuko could hear breathing. “If I had been a Bender, maybe…”

Sleep claimed Zuko.

The next week passed in much the same way. Zuko would awaken for only a few minutes and his vision was always dark and cloudy. He did not always awaken in a tent, and sometimes was jostled into consciousness by the shaking of a cart. Then he heard many voices, and occasionally there were voices that he knew.

When Zuko finally, really woke up, it was like he had just broken a fever. He sat up, fully alert, and feeling dried out while his skin was still slick with sweat. There was a heavy pad bandage over his left eye and that half of his face was covered in a thick, viscous gel. It numbed his face and smelled like anise and wintergreen.

His first instinct was to rip it off but he knew it was on there for a reason.

Zuko pushed the blankets off of himself and stood, with his knees shaking, in an empty tent. There was another cot close by, but it was empty. Listening carefully, Zuko could hear the buzzing of insects and low chatter, and he could feel the ambient heat of day trapped in the canvas walls. It was day, probably late afternoon, and there were other people in camp.

Walking slowly, and unsteady on his feet, Zuko made it to the flap of a door in the tent. He pulled it back and winced in the sunlight. People milled about in the area outside, but no one that he recognized.

“Prince Zuko!” A young woman approached him and Zuko shrank back into the tent. The woman stopped and held up her hands, still smiling. “I’m Zinna. I’ve been helping Ilora with your healing.”

“Where are we?” Zuko asked and cautiously looked around. When he looked back, he saw that Zinna had stepped closer.

“We’ve just gone through the Usui Pass.” She answered.

“We’re heading east?” Zuko asked. He furrowed his brow and then hissed as the skin around his left eye pulled tight. Zinna rushed forward and braced him.

“You should lie down.” She said and Zuko pushed her away.

“No. I don’t need to rest. I need to eat.” He put a hand lightly on the bandage and glared at Zinna.

“You’re bleeding.” She stated. Zuko lifted the hand from the bandage and tentatively touched at the space under his eye. He felt the gel but as he raised his hand up to examine it, he saw the bright red stain of fresh blood.

“It’s most likely just the skin, but we’ll need to look at the eye.” Zinna softly pushed on Zuko’s shoulder as she spoke, urging him back inside. “I will get Ilora and your uncle if you go lay down.”

With that, Zuko nodded and backed into the tent. Zinna stood, holding the flap open, and watched till he staggered back to the cot and collapsed onto it. Then she left it close and disappeared.

Zuko pulled himself fully onto the cot and laid back, putting a hand back onto the bandage. He tried to remember what had happened to cause the injury. It had been night and he just remembered Azula’s frightened face. Then a burst of blue light. Zuko tried to filter through his moments of lucidity, to try and remember if he had ever heard her voice. His memory from that night till now was murky at best, but Zuko knew his sister hadn’t been in to visit him.

As his consciousness slowly caught up to him, Zuko mulled over a mental map of his country. They were heading east, down toward the volcanic island at the tail. He wondered why they were heading toward one of the largest military outposts in the nation if they were trying to escape his father.

Now a lump appeared in his throat as he connected Ozai to Azula. His sister had said something about their father wanting to kill him, and Zuko felt something snap in his chest. His father didn’t like him, he had made that perfectly clear, but Ozai loved him. Zuko was his son, his first born, his heir. Surely he loved him. Ozai had to love him.

Fathers didn’t kill their sons.

Zuko sniffed as his throat tightened and he vigorously rubbed at his unharmed eye. He was a crybaby, as Azula had often told him. He knew he had to be better, be stronger, so that when he returned to his father, there wouldn’t be any more shame. Zuko would be welcomed as an honored son and everything would go back to normal.

Why had they even left?

The noise outside of the tent continued and Zuko waited in silence. He knew they were on a journey, though he didn’t know what destination was in mind. He knew they had to leave in a hurry and that something bad had happened. Understanding those two things, Zuko believed that he would some day return to his home.

All he had to do was wait.


	8. Katara

By the time they hit land, the boy had more or less recovered. When they disembarked, the shepherd boys took the animals up to graze. The older children, boys and girls alike, stayed at the shore, dragging up the rafts and securing them for the dark season. The rest began the slow hike up into the foothills, heading toward the Air Temple ruins. Katara hung back with Kanna, her eyes wide as she looked at all the greenery.

The grass in the tundra was a dry green color. Any leaves or blades were tough and brittle; excellent for the multiple stomachs of the woolly mammals they kept. It was also good for tinder. This grass, as sparse as it was, was soft. During a break, Katara crouched down and ran her hands over a patch of grass, in awe of how the blades bent under the slightest touch.

The ground beneath her was breathing. Katara could almost feel the release of air from the short, gnarled trees. The air was just as crisp, just as clear as it was at the South Pole, but it smelled different.

More importantly, she felt the tiny rivers of water. They caressed the energy around her like individual strands of hair. Water seeped through the roots, sucked upward by thin veins she could see when she held a leaf up to the sun. When she ran her hands over the grass again, the blaes continued to bend after her. They followed the pull she exerted so gently.

“Gran-Gran.” Katara went and tugged on Kanna’s tunic. “Are there really Waterbenders in the North Pole?”

“I’m sure of it.” Kanna replied.

“Then why didn’t they help us?” Katara questioned.

“They think us lost. And they know that if they protect themselves, then the Water Tribe will not die.” Kanna answered. There was bitterness and then there was pragmatism, and Kanna straddled the line between.

“But we will die.” Katara said.

“I will not let that happen.” Kanna countered. Katara stayed silent as she thought.

Darkness fell halfway through their journey. The abrupt sunset worried Katara, but Kanna only patted her head. Here, Katara knew, the night was only long, not permanent like it was during the Dark Season in the Pole.

Despite the growing darkness, no one in their group lit a torch. They were walking a path that had been used for decades, and most knew it by heart. The rest of them stumbled along, holding onto sleeves or pulled behind by weathered hands. Off to the sides, Katara could hear the soft lowing or bleating of the animals, as well as the whoops and whistles of the shepherds. In the morning, the boys would return and the girls would go out to milk the beasts and scatter the porcines into the woods. Katara was not expected to join them, and a grandfather suggested that she spend her time exploring the ruins. They all knew of the wisdom of the Air Nomads, and they all hoped Katara would find something useful.

“They wrote in common though.” One man grumbled. “You can’t find a simple rune in any of their heaps of paper and skins.”

“I can read common.” Kanna said and reached out to squeeze Katara’s shoulder. “I travelled through the Earth Kingdom when I left the North Pole.” Gasps of awe rippled through the night and Katara smiled to herself. Gran-Gran had the best stories from her time in the Earth Kingdom, and Katara was proud by association. Storytellers were a prized asset in every Dark Season.

When the sliver of a moon had risen high into the sky, then they arrived at the temple. Some went out and found stored torches, lighting them with strikes of flint. As each torch burst into light, it was like a pop of energy inside of Katara. The flames of any fire always looked liquid to her, and she felt her fingertips tingle with the urge to touch them.

As they all set up their camp, Katara helped unclog the fountain they used for clean water. Using her bending, she freed a plug of rotting vegetation and sticks. She pulled out the foul smelling stagnant water and the adults around her cheered as clear, freshwater spouted out.

“That would have taken a day or more to do.” One woman remarked.

“Think about what she will do once she’s older!” Another replied and more laughed. Katara beamed, and even Kanna smiled as she shook her head.

Food stores were brought out and Katara relaxed around a small fire with Kanna. The other adults talked about the gardens they had planted last year, and what possible state they would be in now. The temple, Katara learned, was entirely self sufficient. Various vegetable beds dug by the Air Nomads were still being used, and there was an orchard of rock apples nearby. The rock apples, Kanna explained, were inedible raw. But boiled and mashed, they made a sweet fibrous paste.

And, as one woman added, when left in a pitcher made an excellent beer.

Settling against her grandmother, Katara touched her necklace and sighed. Kanna put her arms around Katara and nuzzled her hair.

“Your mother has gone to the spirits. Her name will come back again.” She whispered.

“And dad?” Katara asked.

“He will be just fine.” Kanna said gently. Katara did not believe her.

That night, they slept and Katara was lulled by the sounds of the animals and the brisk winter wind, whistling through the gaps in the rocks. It was an easy night, curled in her grandmother’s arms. But just before Katara slipped into her dreams, she felt the tears seep down onto her cheeks.

In the morning, much of the group was gone. The shepherd boys returned and were either sleeping or eating. Katara couldn’t find Sokka, but another boy assured her that he had gone off to search through the rooms of the temple. She was given a piece of flat hearth bread and a hunk of dried fish and sent on her way.

Wandering aimlessly, Katara wound up outside where some of the younger elders were working in a garden. Small piles of trimmings and weeds were found dotting neat aisles. For having spent so many months unattended, the gardens were surprisingly clear. One man looked up and upon seeing Katara’s frown, waved her over. She approached gingerly, stepping softly onto the loamy dirt. The man pulled her under his arm and leaned in close.

“Have you wondered why we were so ready to accept your secret, little Waterbender?” He whispered. Katara nodded quickly. The man smiled as he continued. “Look there, at the tree line.” He pointed, tipping the end of his hoe forward. Katara looked up and searched along the treeline. She found some of the shepherd boys emerging.

No, not the boys. Adults.

Katara’s eyes widened as she gasped.

The village had an army hiding in the temple.


	9. Zuko

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late and short. I have plenty of excuses but I mean, I really should just upload these ahead of time.

Iroh came, and another woman, who Zuko took to be the healer Ilora. She was old, older than Iroh, but not as old as his grandfather. She had a slight stoop, and her hair was looped back with beads.

“Ah, nephew, I see you are more alert.” Iroh said. Zinna stepped in after them, holding a bowl of something steaming.

“Uncle, what’s happening?” Zuko asked. Iroh looked pained, but knelt down next to his cot. Ilora went to the other side, to tend to the bandage, while Zinna stood smiling at his feet.

“Well, there has been a coup.” Iroh started and Zuko started upright. Ilora placed a bony hand on his chest and pushed him firmly back down.

“Is my father alive?” Zuko asked. Iroh sighed and Zuko’s pulse shot up. He could feel the prickle of his blood rushing through his arms and legs.

“Your father is the one who started the coup.” Iroh replied. Ilora pulled off the bandage and Zuko’s eye immediately watered.

“What?” He asked. Ilora hummed quietly to herself as she wiped away at the paste.

“Azulon.” Iroh stopped and sighed again. “Azulon was going to announce the official line of succession. Ozai found out that I had named you my heir and had decided to take matters into his own hands.” Iroh fell silent and Zuko waited for him to continue. Ilora continued her humming and applied a new paste, dabbing gently at the area around his eye.

“Your father had your grandfather poisoned. He was planning on removing me as well.” Iroh finished. Zuko turned his head so that he looked straight up at the tent. The insects whirred and whined in the heat. He laid back and felt the lines Ilora traced with her fingers. He felt the odd plasticity of the skin nearest his eye, how it resisted her touch. He laid in silence as she replaced the bandage.

His father was now the Fire Lord. For how long they had been travelling, the coronation would have long since passed.

“Where is Azula.” Zuko said.

“Most likely still in the palace, if they haven’t moved her.” Iroh replied.

“She is his heir.” Zuko said.

“Yes.” Iroh replied, softer now.

Death was the only way to make the second born heir. To be passed over was to have been given a death sentence.

“The current story is that I had your grandfather killed, because he was going to name you the crown prince. Before I was able to slay your father, he bested me and I escaped, taking you and your mother with me.” Iroh continued.

Zuko turned his face away, looking now at Ilora. The lines in her face were deep and dragged her cheeks down. As she managed a small smile, it looked like her flesh was melting down her face from the inside. Her skin was dark, weathered, and leathery. Her eyes, though, were a bright blue.

“You’re from the Water Tribe.” Zuko said. Ilora’s smile fell and she nodded solemnly.

“I am from the South Pole.” She said. “I followed after the ships that took my wife.”

“Will my eye ever heal?” He asked. Ilora reached up and patted Zuko’s shoulder with her clean hand.

“In time. Your sight should not be affected. Your sister did not intend to maim you.” She answered.

Zuko didn’t respond, only turned his head till he was looking back at the roof of the tent. Ilora groaned softly as she stood and Zinna approached.

“Would you like to eat now Prince Zuko?” She asked. When he didn’t say anything, Iroh reached up over his chest.

“I will take it Zinna, if you please.” He said and she handed him the bowl. Iroh held it in his lap while he waited for Ilora and Zinna to leave.

“Where is my mother?” Zuko asked.

“She has gone to Hira’a. She believes she has found something useful there.”

“Where are we going?”

“There is an Earth Kingdom transport we will take at Hudai.” They were silent again and Zuko listened to the voices outside of the tent.

They would hide in the Earth Kingdom, but Zuko knew that wasn’t the main plan. Had they only been fleeing Ozai’s wrath, he would only be in the company of his family, and Master Piandao’s household. Instead, they were travelling in a large caravan, looking very much like refugees. Zuko had of course heard of these types of travellers, usually poor villagers who had their land taken by the government in order to build more factories or mining facilities.

This group, as Zuko had both seen and heard, were varied. If Ilora had followed after her wife, most likely she had been to the prisons. But there were Earth Kingdom natives, and other blue eyed people. Why they had ever congregated in the Fire Nation was beyond Zuko’s mental grasp, but he could piece together what it meant.

They were building an army. But for how old many of them were, Zuko couldn’t decide if this was a coalition of soldiers or sages.

He wondered what his place in this army would be.

“I’d like to eat now.” Zuko said as he struggled upright. Iroh helped him sit up and then handed him the bowl. It was stew, with chunks of unfamiliar meat. He poked at the vegetables in the thin broth and his mouth twitched.

He would not cry. Never again would he cry about things that happened to him. He had to be strong.

“I’m sorry Lu Ten died.” Zuko said softly. Iroh’s breath hitched, but he simply placed a hand on the edge of Zuko’s cot.

“I am glad that you survived nephew.” He replied, just as gently.

Zuko took a bite of the stew. It tasted like ashes.


	10. Katara

When the adults arrived, they hastened quickly into the temple. The energy shifted into something manic and fearful, making Katara shy and awkward. Instead of sticking around, she darted out of the common area and found a dusty staircase. The steps were carved into the stone and spiraled upward, so that the voices quickly turned to unintelligible noise after only a few turns. Katara climbed until her legs got tired and then stepped out into a hallway.

Rooms with rotted doors stood like open mouths along the hall. The staircase she had used was about midway and Katara craned her neck from side to side to see which way she should go. The spire whistled like a cracked flute; Katara was aware of the thin streams of breeze that curled through the loose stones and broken windows. Feeling a pull to the left, she wandered down the quiet stone hall, averting her gaze from the open door frames.

About a quarter down, Katara heard the faint rustle of paper. Her steps quickened and she halted just before the door where she heard the noise. Someone was rifling through the contents of the room, pulling out papers and pausing to breathe and flip through the sheaves.

“Hey.” Katara said as she popped around the frame. Sokka ignored her and yanked out a pad of papers from between a stack of books that were perched on a stool. The papers came free and the top half of the book stack toppled onto the floor. A large dust cloud exploded into a large puff, causing them both to start coughing. Waving her hands, Katara dispersed the cloud and approached her brother.

“What did you find?” She asked and peered around his hands as she turned to stand next to him. Sokka handed her the papers as he turned back and walked over to a desk. Katara scanned the pages in her hand, unable to make sense of the neat columns of characters.

“I was just looking around at first, but then I found this.” Sokka spoke while he stepped back to her side. She looked over at the new papers he held, filled with rows of runes.

“Nutaaq?” Katara asked, taking the papers from him and adding it to her stack. The papers were a daily log, talking about chores and supplies purchased from nearby traders. Names that felt unfamiliar in her mouth were shaped out in her people’s runes.

“I think this monk came from the village we were at. His father was an Airbender and his mother sent him here.” Sokka explained.

“How do you know that?” She questioned. Sokka went back to the desk and returned with two tattered books.

“Here.” He said and flipped open the top book. “The monk’s name was Natar, a Water Tribe name. He talks about his mother, Atuat, was a Waterbender.” Sokka pointed to the familiar symbols and Katara nodded.

“He was recording the history of the Air Temples. Look how he writes in Common and in Nutaaq.” He continued. Katara saw how the left page was written in Common but she didn’t understand how it related to the runes on the right.

“We could use this to learn Common writing. Gran-Gran can teach us to speak it.” Sokka concluded. Katara frowned and shook her head.

“How do you know which words mean which runes?” She asked, still staring at the page. In her mind, the Common characters were attempting to make a picture, and Katara could not parse one out.

“Because of this book.” Sokka said and thrust the first one into Katara’s hands. She scrambled to hold it and the papers, but dropped the lot as Sokka opened the book in his hands. It was a beautifully illustrated story, one that she knew well.

“The Legend of Sedna.” She whispered in awe.

“With Common written in the spaces around.” Sokka explained. “We can match the runes to the characters.”

“But why would we want to?” Katara asked, looking over at Sokka.

“Natar was an Airbender who wanted to collect knowledge. Knowledge that he wrote down in Nutaaq. He might have something on waterbending, or the North Pole.” Sokka said. Katara was silent and chewed on her lip as she looked back down at the book. One whole page was painted with bright blue and green ink, with silver lines carving out Sedna’s face. It was when she was being taken out to sea, before she was dropped into the icy ocean and created all the sea life. She looked so sad, but her mother had always called her serene.

“Sokka.” Katara said suddenly, still looking at Sedna’s face.

“What?”

“There are grown-ups here.”

“WHAT?!”

The pair rushed back down the stairs together and back into the common room. Everyone seemed to be gathered, with the younger boys now gone to watch the varied flocks. Torches had been lit, as well as a large communal fire in the center. Adults stood or crouched together in a large group, though no one seemed to be leading a meeting.

Sokka became reticent and Katara hid behind him, craning around him to look at everyone. She had been told that this very thing had been impossible, and yet here they were. A small army of young adults.

An elder, someone they had made the crossing with, spotted them and waved them both over. Quietly, and with Sokka’s hand clamped tightly on her own, they approached. More and more people turned and began to whisper.

“This,” The old man began as the children got closer. “Is our Waterbender.” He put a hand on Katara’s shoulder and it felt like a boulder, pushing her into the floor. She grabbed onto Sokka’s arm and dipped her head in a brief nod.

“By her lady’s most frigid depths, is it true?” The adult was a woman, younger than Katara’s mother had been, but far older than her own years. She smiled broadly as Katara nodded.

“A Waterbender!” The woman whooped, turning toward the crowd. Cheers went up and Katara felt herself smile. Kanna finally emerged and ushered them both under her arms.

“Are any of you Waterbenders?” Katara asked, trying to speak loudly enough to be heard. The woman turned back, looking sad.

“Unfortunately, no. Iqaluit was one of the first places to be purged of our Benders. Even before the formal decree went out, a whole fleet went from slaughtering Airbenders to raiding our village.” She answered. Katara, overwhelmed, began to cry. The woman winced but startled as Sokka stepped up to her, glowering.

“Then what do you want with my sister?” He demanded, puffing his thin chest out. The woman regarded him for a moment and then grinned, still knowing better than to laugh.

“A Waterbender gives us a fighting chance. Now, we have a plan.” She answered. She clapped a hand hard on Sokka’s back, making him cough and lurch forward. She continued to push him, turning him toward the others. Katara cried out, reaching for him, but Kanna hushed her.

“We have a new Wolf Warrior, and he protects the Waterbender!” The woman called out. While everyone cheered, she leaned down toward Sokka.

“What’s your name wolfpup?” She asked.

“S-s-sokka.” He stammered, his face flushing.

“To Sokka and to Katara! The Saviors of the South Pole!” The woman said, standing tall. More cheers and applause filled the room. It rang in Katara’s ears and she held her hands over them. But looking at Sokka, she saw him stand tall with pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank everyone for their patience. I am bad at updates and I'm trying to do the weekly thing. It's a work in progress.
> 
> ALSO! To people commenting! I am extremely anxious about replying! I don't know if people like talking to me in the comments so I usually stay out of them but I love them so, so much. Like a lot. Thank you.


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